


I Love the Bones of You

by OhTigridia



Category: A3! (Video Game)
Genre: Character Study, Engagement, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Relationship Study, Spoilers for Hisoka’s backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:27:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24082036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OhTigridia/pseuds/OhTigridia
Summary: Memories. Things Hisoka looks back on in the moment he decides that he wants to tie his life to Homare’s.Hisoka learned things about himself, how there were parts of Homare Hisoka couldn’t bear to be apart from.Things that made him believe in soulmates and inseparable love. All the childish things August once told him about about in a world that was cruel to them.
Relationships: Arisugawa Homare/Mikage Hisoka
Comments: 31
Kudos: 123





	I Love the Bones of You

With his head against Homare’s chest, he can hear the constant thumping of his heartbeat, and his sacred, murmured breathing. It mixes with the pitter patter of rain on the roof almost rhythmically. A song that just so happens to be Hisoka’s favourite.

It is warm under their bedsheets, Hisoka’s legs entangled with Homare’s. It’s strange the way he can stay awake to just listen to his breathing. He savours how Homare is beautifully quiet in sleep, and how much of a fond headache he is in waking. 

He kisses his forehead, and watches the movement of his face as he moves slowly into consciousness. 

“Good morning Arisu…” 

“Ah… Good morning Hisoka.” He returns the kiss to his forehead, his morning voice rougher and sweetly unpolished. Slowly, he reaches up, and pushes his hand through Hisoka’s hair, who leans his head into the touch.

He shuts his eyes for a moment, his senses focusing on the warmth of his fingertips as they push gently through the layers of his hair. He opens them again after a moment, to Homare’s soft smile below him. 

“You’re just like a cat.” He murmurs. He takes it as a complement. 

Hisoka pushes a hand through Homare’s own hair, and then lowers his face down to meet Homare’s lips. He tastes sweet, gorgeously warm in a way that Hisoka thinks is even better than marshmallows and hot chocolate. 

“I love you.” He breathes in between deep kisses. Homare’s eyes are half lidded, his cheeks blushed with a delicate red. He’s pretty.

“I love you too.” He replies. “More than I have the power to say.” 

Hisoka feels it. It’s in all of Homare’s actions, his constant care and tender notions even when Hisoka is bitter like ice. It’s in the way he frantically writes poems and then reads them until his voice goes hoarse, as if he desperately were searching for words to express desire.

Hisoka knows he loves him. He hopes Homare knows how much he loves him too, but perhaps, Hisoka feels he needs to prove it.

_He wants to be married._

—-

_Married._

Because Hisoka isn’t easily trusting, and yet he allows Homare to know the delicacies of his weaknesses. He’s used to the cold of defence, blood that ran through his hands in winter. The world is dangerous, and Hisoka has grown strong to oppose it. Yet Homare feels warm, something special that protects him from the awful of the world. 

He’s special, and makes Hisoka feel safe. He’s someone he trusts on equal measures to August and April, despite Hisoka’s thoughts that he’d never feel that way again.

Homare broke down his mental walls and defenses, and shamelessly, Hisoka had let him. 

First it was standing behind. Hisoka knew the pain of being stabbed, the anxieties of being watched. It’s natural logic for him, that if someone approaches from behind, they had the intent to kill. 

Unless you get there first.

That was why practice for Mystery was so taxing. When his troupe had found his disdain for people standing behind him, and how at the time, he couldn’t quite understand why.

He and Homare had made an agreement that they’d practice him standing behind him, in order for Hisoka to become more comfortable with the looming presence.

Hisoka hated it. He felt endangered and despised the way his heart raced.

How his muscles tensed as he fought against some secondary impulse to lash out against him.

For the most part, he was successful in suppressing it. He’d put up with it, because it was only Homare, and Homare would never hurt him. 

He kept telling himself.

There was one time though, when Homare had startled him when he was sleeping, and Hisoka hadn’t been able to restrain the fear based attack. Like a spooked dog, he’d lunged for him, and ended up with Homare pinned to the floor, Hisoka’s hand on his neck.

He remembers it clearly. The look of terror that flashed in his scarlet eyes. How Homare had felt so unusually small and breakable in the wrath of Hisoka’s surprise. 

When he snapped back into the moment, and realised what he’d done, he’d removed himself quickly. He lay, trembling in the grass, staring in a terrified daze at the bright grey sky.

_Why did he do that? He could have killed him. He didn’t want to lose him too…_

_Why does he think that? Who was it he’d lost that made him so afraid of losing Homare?_

“Hisoka?...” A voice came. It sounded unsure, but laced with an obvious concern.

“Ari..su…” Hisoka mumbled. He was still shaking, a choked tightness in his throat. Quickly, it was accompanied by the hot wave of tears. They overcame him instantaneously.

“Hisoka…” Homare said. His voice was distant. He couldn’t quite comprehend when Homare sat down in the grass beside him. 

“Are you alright?” 

_Why was he the one asking him that? He was the one who hurt him._

“I’m...ok… You just startled me… I’m sorry…” 

“I see… Well, I’ll have to be more careful next time won’t I?! It was my fault for coming up beside you so quickly, I didn’t mean to upset you like that.” Homare apologised.

“...My fault, I almost hurt Arisu.” He murmured. “I don’t want to hurt you… It just happened and I don’t know why…”

“That is ok! I wasn’t hurt, just a little surprised!” 

“...” 

“Ahh but you are the one who is crying! So clearly you are upset. What should I do?” 

“...Stay here and keep talking to me… I keep feeling like…something bad will happen… I don’t want it to.”

“Oh dear. I would never leave your side if that is what you want! I am rather stubborn when I wish to be!” He assured. 

Hisoka already knew of Homare’s stubbornness. It was a pest Hisoka would complain about endlessly, though he didn’t truly want it to leave.

Hisoka felt like someone else had promised something similar in the past. 

At the time, he couldn’t understand who, but in the future's path, he would recall it.

Homare would persist to help him manage the terror and loss that seemed to haunt him.

When he was December in his dreams again. When he was bloodied, crying and yelling with such a volume he had never discovered before. When he knew loss, and powerless mourning.

When he woke up screaming to Homare’s eyes, fretting with concern. 

“ _Hisoka!_ Hisoka my dear, it’s ok!” 

Hisoka sobbed hard, his tiny frame shaking intensely, tears that stung like hot magma streaming down his face.

“ _August…_ A..A..risu..” Hisoka cried.

“It’s me.” He had murmured, his voice quiet and soft. “I’m afraid you had another of those awful nightmares again, but it’s all over now. You are safe with me.” 

“Ari..su...”

“Is it alright to touch you?” He had asked. Hisoka nodded his response, unable to find any more words between his choked sobbing. 

Homare was gentle. Careful, as he had learned Hisoka’s responses, and how to cope with the unpredictability of his trauma. He’d start by picking up his hand. Taking it into his own, and gently stroking his knuckles with his thumb.

“It’s ok. You are safe now.” He’d only say, his voice gentle and understanding. He’d wait until Hisoka became more calm to hug him softly. His hands on his shoulders first, to look him in the eye assuringly. 

“It’s only me, and you are going to be ok.” Then he took him fully into his arms. Hisoka cried into his shoulder, but the warmth of the present enveloped him assuringly, taking him away from the cold of that night.

“Arisu…” Hisoka mumbled once more, but the name was more fully formed, whispered, sad and losing. “Thank you…” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Homare asked, and rubbed comforting circles into Hisoka’s back with a slow consoling rhythm. 

“Mm…” Hisoka still cried. “Just… that night.. again…” 

“I understand. It is not your fault you must know?” 

“M.. mhmm.” 

“I know it must be so hard for you, but you’re going to be ok now…” 

“I know but.. I’m scared… I’m tired... I don’t want to sleep again…” He whimpered. 

“Ok then. How about I read to you instead?” He suggested enthusiastically. “I think I’ll either keep you awake, or it will help relax you!” 

“Either is good…” He murmured.

“I see Hisoka does sometimes like my poems then!” He teased fondly, placing a soft kiss to his lover’s forehead. “Lie down! Make sure you’re comfy so you can enjoy them properly!” 

“Please just get on with it… or I might change my mind…” Hisoka complained weakly. He wouldn’t change his mind. He enjoyed the sound of his voice, melodic and rich as he spoke in metaphors and art Hisoka couldn’t understand. They were beautiful anyway, despite what he might protest if he had more energy. 

_“Metal. Snow and Ice.  
_ _Emerald between the winter.  
_ _Scars of heart and skin.  
_ _Still never damaged.  
_ _Ever pretty is my one cherished lover.”_

If nightmares were mental scars, they could be counted like the physical scars of his skin. 

Something ugly of old times, Hisoka had tried to hide. Not to concern. Not to frighten.

Maybe the left of his face is “pretty” if Homare said so, but maybe he couldn’t feel that way about himself. It’s just a damaged face. The right much more ruined with his blind eye, and the scars that littered his chest left little to be desired. 

_Homare is beautiful_. He’s melancholic smiles and the act of being fussy, but his form is still untouched by the harshness of the world. 

Hisoka wasn’t sure why Homare insists he must be beautiful. 

He wasn’t sure why he wanted to let him see the true state of him he desired to see. 

Maybe it was self destruction, or maybe for validation. He trusted Homare, he wanted to show he did, but he must pale in comparison to him. He’s afraid of his damaged state, when Homare sings of such beautiful things.

Because they kissed in the night, and maybe on some instinct, he pulls at the hem of his shirt, and Hisoka always grabs his hand away. 

“ _Sorry._ ” He always apologized so profusely. Hisoka would only kiss to tell him it was fine, but he couldn’t stand to let him see just yet. Homare was gentle and understanding, as he always was with everything.

The night he’d let him see was the same. Homare’s instinctual tugging. 

“You can do it… if that’s what you’re trying to do…” 

“Hm?” 

“Take it off… but I… it’s not pretty.” Hisoka warned, averting his eyes from Homare with a timid embarrassment. 

“My dear I’m sure you are.” Homare smiled warmly, though he hesitated. “Are you sure you’re ok with that though?” 

Hisoka nodded quickly. “Yeah..”

“If you’re sure you’re comfortable, that is what is important to me.” He kissed the top of his head softly, and Hisoka shivered as the shirt was removed, revealing the many scars that littered the pale of his body. 

“Sorry.” Hisoka muttered, and averted his eyes from him again. 

“And what are you apologising for I wonder?” Homare took him gently into the warm of his arms again, and stroked the side of his face lovingly. “I think you’re beautiful, and terribly brave.”

Hisoka watched his face. The warmth of his smile, and the seamless love when he took him into his arms. The words he spoke, the passion in his red eyes that held no signs of lying. 

“...Thank you…”

“Of course my dear.”

He didn't hesitate after that, just kissed him deeply. Homare’s fingers traced the marks on his skin, like understanding the poetry scripted on the flaws of his body. He didn’t flinch away from it.

“You’re beautiful too.” He whispered into his neck as he pulled them apart, and savoured the shivers he sent down his spine.

Homare was beautiful. An angel that reinscripts parts of Hisoka he has lost, or come to hate. He mends little broken parts of him, and Hisoka endeavoured to do the same.

Even if he was rude and backhanded. Even if he made the image of selfishness for himself, it wasn’t quite true. 

Hisoka couldn’t quite understand how to express kindness in words. The idea of being less blunt, more loving and open came gently, and Hisoka found it easier to express in actions and vulnerability. How he hoped Homare understood his trust in allowing him to assist in moments of weakness, and how he tried to do the same in return.

When he distressed over things such as emotion, fears of appearing subhuman or cold. Hisoka still found it difficult to believe anyone would say such things about him. Homare was warm and bright hearted.

Still Homare didn’t cry, but he looked like he wished he could, so Hisoka would clamber into his lap and put his arms around him. 

Maybe he played at being selfish all the time to contrast how hard Homare tried to be the opposite. 

“I wonder why I said that. How ridiculous of me. Maybe I’m not getting any better at this whole thing...” Homare muttered, his eyes distant and pained.

“Yes you are.” Hisoka hummed, pressing his head stubbornly into Homare’s shoulder. “You apologised, and everyone in the troupe forgave you as always.” 

“I suppose so, but I still feel like I should have read the mood better in the first place.” He sighed.

“You’re trying your best, and I think you’re doing just fine how you are.” 

“Ah but-“

“Shh.” Hisoka whispered, and pressed a finger to Homare’s lips. “Noisy Arisu talks too much. I hate when people are mean to Arisu, especially when it’s himself.” 

“Sorry…” 

“Don’t apologise to me, you should apologise to Arisu.” 

“And why should I do that?” Homare asked a little sheepishly.

“Because Arisu is a very kind person and you’re not being very nice to him right now.” Hisoka pouted, then yawned and lent his weight back into him. “I think you should say sorry.” 

Homare looked a little taken aback at that, and sat, lost in his thoughts for the moment. 

“Say sorry.” Hisoka repeated, stubborn as ever. 

“Oh, I’m sorry… Arisu?” Homare said, and laughed a little awkwardly.

“Good. Don’t like people being mean to my Arisu.” Hisoka kissed his cheek. 

“You’re as strange as ever aren’t you! How difficult you are to understand, and yet I do appreciate it.” Homare smiled. 

“Now I’m sleepy and we need to nap.” Hisoka decided, and shut his eyes. 

“I see my sweet sleeping beau has returned to me then.” Homare chucked. “Alas! I will not have us sleep on the floor, as the floor is mean to Arisu’s back, and will have to escort us both back to bed! Up you come!”

Hisoka allowed himself to be led to bed, and once more found himself in the comfort of bedsheets and the most comfortable pillow. 

“Goodnight, my love.” The pillow said. 

“Goodnight Arisu…”

—

Memories. Things Hisoka looks back on in the moment he decides that he wants to tie his life to Homare’s.

Hisoka learned things about himself, how there were parts of Homare Hisoka couldn’t bear to be apart from. 

Things that made him believe in soulmates and inseparable love. All the childish things August once told him about in a world that was cruel to them. 

He thinks of August. Of great loss, and how much terror he feels at the concept that one day, he might lose Homare too. 

But for the moment, he is content. Happy living August’s wish. He wants to live a full life, and promise to protect Homare _till death do them part._

_He wonders if August is watching?_

Laughing fondly as the boy he gave the world to begins to question the boundaries of his own life.

 _Hisoka Mikage_ , the boy with no name or chance to live at first, was gifted one by a man who’d died for the life of him. 

He’ll thank him for that over and over again. He lives his own life dedicated to late August’s. To take the opportunities he handed to him, and make the most of vibrant life.

_“Thank you, August…”_

—-

The night is beautiful. Dark skies that map years above them, embellished with diamond stars, and the pearlescent full moon. 

It’s light shines down on the pair, casting a lavender glow that makes Homare’s hair shine. The sides of his face highlighted in beauty.

They have long gone silent next to each other. Their hands intertwined in pleasant pondering and the twinge of intimacy in the moment. Homare likely thinks he’s sleeping, though Hisoka remains aware of the pair of eyes resting on him.

“Arisu.” He says quietly. 

“Yes my dear? Are you sleepy?” He laughs softly in response. 

“No.” He shakes his head, though he takes the moment to crawl into his lover’s lap. He takes his face in his hands and rubs the soft rosiness of his cheeks with his thumbs.

“Mm?” Homare smiles, his melting eyes full of love. 

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course my love.”

“Do you want to get married?” He asks, simple as if he were asking the time. He snickers at Homare’s shocked expression, and the flush of red in his skin. 

“Hisoka my dear, I don’t think you should joke about such things…”

“I’m not.”

“Ah!” He pauses, embarrassed and taken aback, as if the reality of Hisoka’s honestly hadn’t quite settled with him. 

“Then yes!” He says firmly. “I would absolutely adore to marry you.” Homare laughs, and Hisoka takes his face closer to his to kiss him warmly. 

“I love you…”

“I love you too… so much.” 

“...Will you take my name?” Hisoka asks quietly, slightly embarrassed by all the sappy things he needs to ask.

“Of course, if that is important to you?”

“Mm.” Hisoka pauses to think about his phrasing. The memories of old times make him tremble slightly, to which Homare rubs his hands with his thumbs as comfort.

“My name is important to me… Someone gave it to me, and I want to give it to you too…I wasn’t born with this name, but it’s the name that fits me most…” He pauses, and Homare nods encouragingly.

“It’s my last connection to him - to my past. And I can live in the present safely because of what he gave me, and I want him to know I’m so happy living his final wish with this name… As the actor Hisoka Mikage I’ve found someone to love who makes me so happy…”

Homare smiles with so much love, gently squeezing his hand. 

  
  


“Then it would be an honour to live as your husband, the actor _Homare Mikage._ ”


End file.
